


my saddle's waiting

by PensamientosOscuros



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PensamientosOscuros/pseuds/PensamientosOscuros
Summary: "What kind of lesbian walks around without a strap in her drawer?”Or,Jinsol is a great friend, and Haseul gets her girlfriend a gift.





	my saddle's waiting

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY birthday to miss julia, eat cake and have fun!

It’s dumb, really.

 

She’s talking to Jinsol, walking home after class. The air is crisp and warm, wrapping around their bare limbs, and the sun has been making freckles reappear on the bridge of Haseul’s nose. Jinsol’s retelling the encounter she had with a senior student two days ago, pride lacing every dirty detail leaving her mouth, and Haseul snorts.

 

“What?” Jinsol asks, laughing. They’re close to their apartment, the block visible above the treetops, cutting into the bright blue sky. It’s a lovely day out to be discussing your sex life with your best friend.

 

“Did you just say she pulled out a strap, just like that? Like, from her drawer?”

 

Jinsol laughs at the wording. “Yeah! Why’s that so funny? Where the hell are you supposed to keep your strap then?”

 

“First of all, if she had lingerie on  _ and  _ a dildo waiting for you at her dorm room,  _ she  _ was the one who decided you’d fuck, not you. Second,” she’s trying to finish her thought through her laugh, but Jinsol’s indignant face is making it difficult. “ _ Second _ , I wouldn’t know, because when you’ve got fingers as nice as mine, you don’t need any toys.” She wiggles her fingers in front of Jinsol’s face teasingly, like a kid bragging about their favorite game.

 

Then Jinsol stops, and Haseul’s met with the girl’s shocked face behind her, mouth hanging open.

 

“What are you doing?” Haseul asks, knowing that whatever the blonde is about to say is going to get on her every last nerve. She’s hungry, and her brain is not up for any jostling after their three hour lecture.

 

“You’re telling me that you don’t have a strap? Not even a normal, boring ass dildo?” Her voice is loud and disbelieving; Haseul shushes her and looks around the quad, mortified.

 

“Shut it! Why is that a big deal?”

 

“Because! It’s like, basic gay stuff! What kind of lesbian walks around  _ without  _ a strap in her drawer?”

 

“The kind of lesbian who’s been with her girlfriend for seven months and is completely happy! We don’t need any strange objects to...”

 

“You’ve been dating Jiwoo for  _ seven  _ months and it has never crossed your mind once to strap…”

 

“Okay, stop.” She doesn’t know why she’s snapping, but the telltale heat of embarrassment is crawling up her face, and she  _ hates  _ it. “Jiwoo doesn’t like that stuff, okay? She’s too innocent for that shit, and I most certainly don’t care about having a… _ toy  _ like that. So let’s drop it.” It’s easy to tell herself that.

 

Jinsol sniggers, raises her hands in mock surrender when Haseul’s glare turns icy, and walks up to her friend again, an amused smile on her face. Haseul could slap it off if she loved her a smidgen less. She’s mad, but she still shares her noodles with her friend at home.

 

She thinks about it, inevitably.

 

She’s watching Jiwoo in all her glory, naked and wet, grinding her hips under her, trying to take her fingers in further, and the pleasure the sight causes her is overridden by the fleeting thought that maybe,  _ maybe  _ Jiwoo wants more, wants her deeper. She still makes the girl come not long after with sated sighs and slow kisses and soft words, but the doubt lingers in her mind.

 

She figures she’s overreacting, but the silent responsibility of being older and supposedly well-versed in adult matters doesn’t mesh well with self-doubt. She’s a natural born leader, she’s been told, so it only makes sense that it translates into her relationship, too.

 

At some point, the overwhelming doubt dissipates, taking the form of something darker, a desire that clouds her mind and renders her powerless. She wakes up sticky and soaking one night with the image of a flushed Jiwoo bouncing on her lap while she holds her against her feverish body and, well. The decision’s taken.

 

She doesn’t bring it up with Jiwoo, of course, afraid that her cool façade will crumble at the simple mention of a strap-on and her unexpected inexperience – she was supposed to be the knowledgeable one,  _ dammit – _ , and Vivi is too…understanding; she’d rather burrow into a hole in the ground than put Vivi through that. She needs the cold, unwavering assistance of the internet.

 

One afternoon that Jinsol is busy with one of her biology projects somewhere in the library, she resigns herself to her fate and opens her laptop.

 

She’s instantly surprised by the amount of toys to choose from. She looks around her room, completely empty, and gets up to lock her door like a horny teenage boy about to go at it in his family home. She thought she overcame her paranoia long ago, but there is something about discovering that your girlfriend might be missing out on essential life experiences like being pounded within an inch of her life because you are not as well-informed as you thought you were that makes her uneasy.

 

She sighs. Damn Jinsol and her need to overshare.

 

She spends hours just browsing, looking through pages like she’s at a supermarket comparing cheeses. Is she supposed to choose for Jiwoo? Shouldn’t her girlfriend be the one to decide what would be used on her? What if Jiwoo wants to use it on  _ her _ ? The simple thought of Jiwoo being aware of her thoughts is cringe worthy, so she doesn’t allow herself to dwell on it too much. If Jiwoo wants to try it, then they will. If she doesn’t, one less thing to worry about.

 

She decides on a model, and ignores how her bank account just became 50.000 won lighter.

 

The package arrives two days later, thankfully while her resolve is still standing, and she suppresses the need to shove it in Jinsol’s annoying face. She’s being childish and she knows it, but insecurity has always been hard for her to deal with. Maybe if everything goes right, she’ll buy her flatmate some of her favorite tteokbokki.

 

\--

 

Jinsol is out for the weekend – Jiwoo’s place was a hard no, since freshmen had to share rooms the first year in the dorms and as much as Haseul loves Jungeun, she isn’t about to give her the show of her life –, and Haseul seizes the opportunity. She tells Jiwoo to come over after her last rehearsal of the week for the spring play, and her girlfriend doesn’t hesitate to utter her answer with soft lips on Haseul’s before skipping away to meet with Chaewon.

 

_ Oh boy _ , she thinks as she watches the oblivious girl walk away,  _ hopefully this won’t ruin anything. _

 

She’s fidgety while Jiwoo tells her about her day over dinner, all big hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. To say that Haseul is nervous is an understatement: she had planned an entire homemade dinner which she had (thankfully) pulled off perfectly, and she had double checked with reddened cheeks her girlfriend’s calendar to make sure it wasn’t  _ that  _ time of the month. 

 

Amidst her quiet anxiousness, she observes the bubbly girl quietly, wishing that she could bottle the feeling in her chest when she is with her, when her brown eyes sparkle in her excitement and her smile lights fires in her chest.

 

“If I get that role, then, puff! I’ll be able to afford my own flat, even some good quality noodles instead of the stuff I’ve been eating. I’ll even get you that white noise machine you always say you want.” The freshman is rambling now, lost in the thoughts that string together right out of her mind. She looks cute, comfortable with Haseul who can’t stop looking at her, drinking in every detail. 

 

She can’t wait to have that face twist in pleasure under her. 

 

It’s a while until she feels Jiwoo’s hand on her denim clad knee, questioning.

 

“Seulie?” Haseul blinks, pulled out of her daze. Jiwoo’s soft eyes look amused at having caught her attentive girlfriend zoning out, a teasing smile adorning her lips. She’s most likely wrong on her guess as to why, though. “Did you invite me over to watch me eat your food? I mean, I’m not complaining, that was great, but…”

 

“Is it bad that I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you walked through the door?”

 

Jiwoo stops her soft caress on Haseul’s knee, looking at her for a moment with those enchanting wide eyes before she smiles again, bashful. Haseul cannot fathom looking away.

 

“I don’t think so?”

 

“Good.” And Haseul’s off her chair, agilely moving to sit on Jiwoo’s lap, drawing the girl’s mouth to hers in a second, swallowing her surprised gasp. She still tastes like the pasta she made and the expensive wine her parents brought over on their last visit, definitely not expecting Haseul to use it the night she planned on rocking Jiwoo’s world with a strap-on, but she doesn’t care when she pushes her tongue inside Jiwoo’s awaiting mouth. 

 

She runs her fingers through brunette hair, keeping their faces close. The younger girl holds her waist carefully at first, growing daring enough to bring her hand down soft cotton almost thoughtlessly, hand closing on Haseul’s delightfully plump ass as she allows herself to be devoured into breathlessness.

 

Haseul doesn’t want to stop, would rather do anything else in the world than pull away, but her mind drifts back to the box lying on her bed and her body  _ aches  _ at the prospect of what might happen if she steers them in just the right direction tonight.

 

“Baby,” she bites on Jiwoo’s bottom lip, pulling her head back, delighting herself on the soft whine, the half-lidded eyes greeting her. “Can we go to the bedroom? There’s something I wanna show you.” There’s promise in her eyes, Jiwoo’s favorite sight. She dives in to kiss Haseul again briefly, fingers fluttering under the older girl’s top.

 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” It’s light teasing, but the low edge to her words doesn’t go unnoticed by the older girl, who’s almost  _ quivering  _ with anticipation. 

 

Haseul shakes her head with a small smile, amused by just how oblivious she is.

 

Wordlessly, she gets up, uncomfortably aware of the wetness beneath her jeans – and they haven’t even done anything yet. Her hand is clammy when it closes around Jiwoo’s, who’s always appreciative of the contact and laces their fingers right away. The apartment is small, with just enough space to fit two bedrooms and a cramped bathroom that opens to the living room, but the walk to her room feels endless.

 

Jiwoo’s starting to be playful with her, pulling her back so she’ll turn around and kiss her, and Haseul isn’t one to deny her anything. She tilts her head to kiss the girl deeply, almost making her lose her balance in her haste, smiles colliding, lips parting enthusiastically under her insistent tongue. 

 

“You taste like dinner,” Jiwoo pulls back to say, stupidly smug.

 

Haseul flicks her tongue over her girlfriend’s lips, sees the smile dim under her touch. “If you knew how to make a simple meal, you would be tasting something better now.” She kisses her again, not letting her reply with the obvious innuendo in the tip of her tongue, taking it into her mouth instead.

 

She pulls away to look at the bed, and the mere sight of the box, closed and harmless, is enough to make her press her thighs together.

 

Jiwoo notices, follows Haseul’s eyes and finds the unassuming box there. “Is that it?” She asks innocently, a tiny tinge of excitement coating her words – she likes gifts, Haseul knows. She hopes she takes this more as a gift than anything else. “Is that for me?”

 

She doesn’t really know how to respond. “Yeah,” she decides on, because the thought of using it on anyone else makes her stomach churn.

 

Jiwoo kisses her thanks and heads for the box.

 

Haseul holds her breath as she watches Jiwoo inspect the box jokingly, pretending that whatever is inside could be dangerous. She observes as Jiwoo finally opens the lid, joke dying in her tongue upon seeing what’s inside. Her wide eyes meet Haseul’s inquisitively.

 

The older girl feels the urgent need to justify herself, stepping closer to her girlfriend, who seems torn between wanting to inspect her new discovery and waiting for Haseul to tell her what’s going on. A freaking dildo with a harness waiting on her bed is pretty self-explanatory, Haseul muses, but she owes her an explanation.

 

“I’m so happy with you, and you make me feel on top of the world whenever we’re together, and lately I’ve been thinking…” She’s rushing to get everything out, but the sight of Jiwoo taking the toy out of the box curiously mutes her for a moment. It looks big in her small hand, so painfully out of place. “I’ve been thinking that maybe, you want something else? I don’t know if I’m supposed to know these things, if we’re supposed to assume things like that, but I love you, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t try with you. So,” she’s not as nervous, thankful for her girlfriend’s patience, “if you wanna try it out, then, we can. And if you don’t and you just want to forget about it, I’ll lock the box somewhere and never speak of it again.”

 

Jiwoo is still looking at her, a glint in her brown eyes.

 

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” the freshman says, voice slightly amused. Haseul can feel the heat travelling to her cheeks but her chest feels light at the lack of outright refusal so far. She’s suddenly filled with courage, warm and intangible, and the words spill from her mouth.

 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about using this with you for a week. I can’t sit through class without imagining what it might be like.” She laughs, embarrassed but relieved at her newfound confidence. “I’ve even dreamed about it, too. How embarrassing, huh?”

 

The girl places the object back in the box, and when she looks at her, Haseul’s skin bristles.

 

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing at all.” All at once, it’s like a switch’s been flipped inside Jiwoo. “I think that we should try this, just this once.”

 

Haseul swallows. “Yeah?” She can’t help how weak her voice comes out.

 

Jiwoo’s bright smile is there for a second before it dims down again, being replaced by something darker. “Yeah. Just in case.”

 

“Of course, just in case.”

 

“And I’m assuming you’d be the one wearing it?” She sounds like she’s got a secret that Haseul wants to uncover with her bare hands.

 

“I mean, if you want me to? I don’t mind.” She does mind, she’s been thinking about burrowing inside Jiwoo for a  _ week,  _ but she’s nothing if not generous. “I really don’t. Just as long as you want it.”

 

She licks her lips. “I do.”

 

Jiwoo looks at her then from under her eyelashes coyly, like she’s the one who had everything meticulously planned and the last step left was to seduce Haseul. The freshman’s thumbs hook onto the waist of her jeans, barely an invitation, but when Haseul goes to accept it Jiwoo shakes her head, stepping back, calves against the bed.

 

“You put that on,” she says, not unkindly but so different from the Jiwoo she is used to seeing. “I wanna see you like that.”

 

She doesn’t specify, but Haseul guesses she means exposed, victim of her own greed,  _ hard _ .

They both lower their zippers at the same time, pull down their pants at the same time, kick them off and onto the floor that Haseul cleaned for the first time in weeks this morning. Haseul stops to watch Jiwoo pull her shirt over her head, mesmerized for a second by the obvious ripple of muscle that her girlfriend insists on keeping hidden from the world. She longs to drag her tongue down the terse skin, to dip it in the line of Jiwoo’s abdominal muscles, to taste her until she’s the only thing occupying her senses.

 

“Seulie.” A warning, this time. The older girl can read the impatience in her voice, in her thirsty gaze, and she takes off her blouse with little care for the expensive fabric and drops it on the floor, fumbling with the harness and tugging her panties down her long legs until there’s an unnatural weight on her hips and she’s standing there, prey to her own desires.

 

Jiwoo doesn’t look apprehensive; doesn’t look like anything, really, just staring at the appendage like it will disappear if she looks away. Haseul should reassure her that it’s not going anywhere until she hasn’t made her come at the very least, but she keeps quiet, watching instead as Jiwoo sits down on the edge of her bed, placid concentration marring her face.

 

Haseul doesn’t feel vulnerable. That’s one of Jiwoo’s marvelous qualities, to reassure her with her mere presence. She does wonder if she should do something regardless of what Jiwoo might indicate; maybe she’s supposed to jerk off? The thought isn’t the most appealing, but then Jiwoo’s dragging her eyes idly up her body until they meet Haseul’s, heavy and intense, and her hand is obscured by the baby blue panties she’s wearing, and  _ fuck,  _ Haseul’s hand moves of its own accord.

 

She can see the outline of Jiwoo’s knuckles under the fabric, can practically imagine her dexterous fingers playing with herself, reacquainting with flesh that Haseul’s so intimately familiar with she can almost imagine how she tastes. Her own hand is slow and steady as it rubs up and down the shaft, unfeeling but somehow making her feel so powerful standing over Jiwoo, her soft Jiwoo, who has succumbed to the very lust that’s running through her veins.

 

The younger girl bites her lip, the sight painfully appealingly, but Haseul knows she’s not supposed to do anything, not yet. One of Jiwoo’s thighs trembles, her hand jerks softly under the blue cotton, and her back arches slightly, a clear indicator that she’s pushed inside herself. Haseul has seen worse, has  _ done  _ worse, but she has never felt so faint in her life. With a shaky breath she extends her arm and gently runs it through brown hair, her other hand warm around the toy from the friction.

 

It’s almost religious, the reverence with which Jiwoo looks up at her, lips parted and brows furrowed, searching for her own pleasure, no doubt getting herself ready for Haseul but trying not to show it, not to be too obvious in her need. 

 

The older girl slides her hand down her cheek; she finds this side of Jiwoo as endearing as it is arousing. The younger girl turns her head to kiss the palm of Haseul’s hand, and the older student watches mesmerized as she nuzzles into her hand, how the strap of her bra slides down her arm unattended, how her chest spills above the material, how her stomach tightens with every drag of her own fingers right below.

 

She lets her thumb stroke the smooth skin of Jiwoo’s cheek, tracing the gentle slope of her nose with utmost care, like she’s not pumping herself a few inches away, ready to sink inside Jiwoo like that’s the only thing that’s keeping her heart beating. The image of Jiwoo’s pretty pink lips wrapped around the shaft clouds her judgment for a second, making her fingers tighten ever so slightly on silky locks, but the picture disappears as swiftly as it came.

 

She wants Jiwoo open beneath her, lost in her own pleasure. The rest will have to wait.

 

“How wet are you?” She asks, voice catching, too sweet for the situation they’re in. Her girlfriend almost closes her eyes then, letting out a blasphemous whine, but fights to maintain the eye contact. She looks wanton already, with sweat starting to permeate her skin, and Haseul’s self-control is slipping through her fingers. 

 

She rubs her thumb along the girl’s bottom lip, watching the flesh stretch and redden under her touch, and she wonders once again just how pliant it’ll be closing around her cock. Instead of testing it out she dips her thumb inside her hot mouth, hips jerking at the automatic response it elicits from Jiwoo, who sucks on it greedily, surrounding it with her tongue. “Be a good girl and tell me, okay?”

 

Haseul has never seen anything so erotic before, she realizes, when she pulls her hand back and a bright string of spit follows, dropping down Jiwoo’s chin dirtily, the girl’s eyes never straying even though she can tell she’s getting closer to her end, gaze focused and irresistible.

 

“I’m so wet,” she murmurs, voice failing her in her arousal. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” 

 

That’s all she needs, really.

 

With a grunt she’s on her knees, hastily pushing Jiwoo’s panties down her legs, stopping the glistening hand in midair before bringing those fingers to her lips, merely an inch away from the source of Jiwoo’s pleasure. She licks them clean messily, not really caring for how she looks when the proof of her girlfriend’s arousal is coating her fingers and she’s collecting every last drop.

 

“Oh my god,” she hears above her, high pitched and trembling, and she wants to keep the sounds coming, would kill to never stop hearing them, so she releases the hand and presses on the inside of her thighs so they’ll open wider, so Jiwoo will be completely bare in front of her. 

 

She’s buried in Jiwoo’s core in a second, tongue greedily lapping up everything she has to offer, drinking her up like a parched man finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. She knows her way around Jiwoo, feels pride clawing at her chest when her gentle fingers tangle in her hair, delirious but looking for more, more, and the weight on her hips and the tightening in her own gut tell her that she won’t be waiting much longer until she gives it to her.

 

She’s  _ delicious  _ on her tongue. “You taste _ so _ fucking good. I love it when you’re dripping like this, darling.” Her words are muffled by the soft skin of her lower stomach before she dives in again.

 

It’s the term of endearment that makes Jiwoo’s hips buckle against her mouth, what makes her head fall back and break contact for the first time, the remaining bra strap following down her arm. She looks positively debauched, and this is as much as Haseul can stand.

 

She rises to smear Jiwoo’s essence all over her mouth, directly onto her tongue, relishing on the moan reverberating from her girlfriend’s mouth and into hers. It takes her a few tries to unclasp the younger girl’s bra – Jiwoo has to help her with a tremulous giggle, wet fingers mingling with Haseul’s until she’s completely bare – and Haseul lies in the middle of the bed, a silent indication that Jiwoo needs to take the next step.

 

Jiwoo isn’t one to think things twice. She encases Haseul’s hips between her thighs, a determined look on her face only obscured by her shallow breathing and the shine between her thighs, and she settles on top of Haseul’s ridiculously toned thighs, regarding the appendage apprehensively for the first time, realizing what she’s about to do.

 

Haseul can tell there’s doubt swimming in her mind and she thinks she’ll combust if she doesn’t get to slip inside Jiwoo soon, but she pushes her desperation aside and sits up, brings her mouth to the girl’s chest, gently wetting the skin on her wake, tasting the saltiness of her sweat, the sweetness of just  _ her, _ feeling her nipple pebbling on her tongue, all senses awoken.

 

“Do you want to stop?” She murmurs hotly around the flesh, igniting Jiwoo’s pulse.

 

“Don’t you dare,” is all she says, softly scratching the nape of Haseul’s neck until she’s purring around her sensitive breast, biting down gently, earning a soft sigh from above. Want floods Haseul when Jiwoo pushes her back gently so she’s on her back again, looking up at her divine presence, ready for her every command, for her every whim and desire.

 

Jiwoo is sure as she reaches under her, appraising just how big Haseul is in her hand, barely pumping the shaft before she’s lowering herself onto it slowly, softly and  _ oh. _

 

“Just like that, just like…yeah.”

 

Haseul’s close to speechless, thanking the gods when she can still gather enough strength to speak. Jiwoo doesn’t speak, doesn’t say anything, her big doe eyes focused and wide, her lips parted in that way that Haseul knows is going to kill her one day. There’s no trace of a smile on her mouth, and her hips are almost  _ there. _

 

“Does it feel good?” The older girl asks, her thighs taut with the effort it takes not to push up into Jiwoo to the hilt, hands burning Jiwoo’s thighs. “Does it hurt? Tell me, baby.”

 

“No, it’s…” she rolls her hips daringly for the first time, taking Haseul in deeper, and her nails dig into the girl’s stomach underneath her, tense with arousal and nerves. “It feels like you…”

 

Haseul’s eyes almost roll into her head. She doesn’t grab Jiwoo’s bare hips, afraid of how much she’ll have to hold back, so she laces her fingers with the girl’s on her stomach instead, reassuring and lovingly. “It is me, baby. I just want you to feel good.” Her words stick to her throat when the girl moves again, finally lower until her thighs are flush with Haseul’s hips, her heat swallowing every last inch. “My god…”

 

She’s impatient for Jiwoo’s pleasure, for her neediness and her hunger, but she’s patient where it counts, and so she doesn’t move, only squeezing one of her hands while the other one travels higher, splaying against the girl’s side and holding her like an anchor.

 

When Jiwoo starts moving there’s no warning, just the stinging of her nails and the soft huff that leaves her mouth, soon followed by the softest whine. The older girl doesn’t think she can hold back much longer; her limbs are tingling in the most pleasant way as if she could start floating any moment, and the pressure in the pit of her stomach is as unmovable as Jiwoo’s determination. Still, she waits, mesmerized by the gentle frown on the girl’s face and her reddened lips. Then,  _ finally _ , Jiwoo makes eye contact, and it scorches Haseul.

 

“ _ Unnie _ ,” Jiwoo says, deviousness fighting to show on her lips alongside her pleasure, “you’re  _ so  _ big…”

 

She’s up in a second, front flush against her girlfriend’s, their labored breaths pushing against each other as she claims Jiwoo’s mouth, swallowing her whine when she lifts herself up slowly only to come down, letting her own weight drag her down the shaft, around Haseul. The older woman wraps her arms around Jiwoo’s petite frame, bringing her impossibly closer, barely any space in between their bodies. She’s burning up, and the second Jiwoo draws circles on her nape and shifts on her lap, Haseul lets herself go.

 

She places a hand behind her so she can grind up into Jiwoo, almost pulling the girl on top of her completely. She’s looking up at Jiwoo, neck straining in her eagerness not to miss the smallest change of expression on the girl’s face. It’s almost obsessive when she thinks about it, the way in which her body  _ craves  _ Jiwoo’s presence, how her moods turn sour whenever she’s gone too long without hearing her voice.

 

The girl’s smaller hands hold Haseul’s face just close enough to hers to feel her labored breathing against her cheeks. She’s looking for something in Haseul’s face, and after a few seconds she shudders like she’s found it. Haseul kisses her then, her chin and her neck and her sternum until she can feel a frantic pulse beneath her tongue, and she winds her arm tighter around the girl’s petite waist, accentuating her grinding.

 

Jiwoo changes posture now, using her arms to frame her lover’s face like she’ll disappear if she isn’t encased between her arms, and Haseul thinks she could die happy like this, with Jiwoo’s lips on her forehead, Jiwoo’s hands on her hair, Jiwoo’s love  _ everywhere. _

 

“Thank god you’re a runner,” the younger girl breathes out, trying to laugh but failing when her chest heaves in need. “I think I would’ve given up by now.”

 

Haseul hasn’t stopped grinding, drawing along the planes of Jiwoo’s chest with her lips, gasping against flushed skin. Her lower back should have started cramping a while ago, she muses, but it might be the adrenaline coursing through her veins for being inside of Jiwoo like this for the first time that’s making her so wonderfully resilient, hearing Jiwoo’s whimpers come closer each time, breathier.

 

“Pretty sure this is not what my mom had in mind when she signed me up for track,” Haseul says, smile sticking to Jiwoo’s damp skin, “but thank  _ god  _ she did.”

 

“Please,  _ please,  _ Jo Haseul, don’t mention your mom.” The words are uttered through a shaky laugh, backed by the wet sounds that are now filling the room, so deliciously loud – unattainable outside of those four walls. She’s still kissing Haseul’s forehead, desperate for the familiarity of her under her lips.  

 

“Noted.” She’s so in love with this girl, it’s ridiculous. “How are you feeling? Tell me.” She dares to look down where their bodies join so sinfully, digging her nails into pale skin at the sight of Jiwoo taking her in so greedily, impossibly wet, impossibly beautiful. She’ll never tire of the tug in her heart, the jolt of her hips. “Fuck, Jiwoo…”

 

The younger girl shushes her, pulling back and gently disentangling Haseul’s arm from around her, silicone deep within her, filling her up like she’s never experienced before. Her breathing is unsteady as she looks right into Haseul’s eyes and presses down on her shoulders, silently guiding her down once again. 

 

Her bangs are hardly there anymore, sticking to her sweaty temples, nostrils flaring with the effort she’s making, just rocking and rocking and rocking. It’s a bit clumsy, how she drapes herself over the older girl, moaning at the new contact, the new shift of the strap-on inside her. She buries her head in Haseul’s sweaty neck, taking her in in every way.

 

“I feel so  _ full _ ,” she starts, and Haseul’s groan is filthy. “Like you’re marking me from the inside out, reaching so… _ god _ , so deep. Like I’m  _ yours. _ ” Her hips are lazy above Haseul, her arms straining with the effort to keep her minimally above her girlfriend. The older girl plants her feet on the bed, knees bent, picking up the rhythm, grip bruising on Jiwoo’s hips. Her gut is  _ aching _ , and she wants, needs to have Jiwoo coming on top of her, around her, short-circuiting before she absolutely  _ loses  _ it. Jiwoo’s mouth opens soundlessly, hardly able to breathe.

 

“Yeah? You like it?  _ God,  _ you’re tight.” She’s out of breath, exertion and arousal mixing inside her lungs, shortening her breaths into pants until she’s punctuating every soft mewl spilling from her girlfriend’s mouth with her own voice, filling the spaces better than any opera piece could devise. She slows her pace again, afraid that she’ll break and spill before Jiwoo does. She laughs weakly, delirious in her pleasure. “I can’t believe we’ve never done this before…” She  _ hates  _ when Jinsol is right, “We’ve only just started, and I wanna have you like this  _ forever. _ ”

 

“Jesus, Haseul.”

 

It’s the unmistakable need in Jiwoo’s quivery voice, maybe it’s the complete lack of honorifics, or maybe it’s how she pulls back to hover above Haseul’s face, eyes almost crossed in their closeness and lips catching on heated skin, but the coil inside Haseul becomes unbearable, so tight that the slow drag of Jiwoo’s hips feels like the harshest agony.

 

Jiwoo’s mouth opens in a silent scream when Haseul turns them over, not bothering to hold herself up and off the girl; she needs the friction, the frantic rhythm of Jiwoo under her, desperate for release, damp and raw and open for her. The younger girl’s thighs stay by her sides as she pounds into Jiwoo like she had had all the rest in the world, like she only needs to push herself for a bit longer before she reaches the finish line. Jiwoo’s  _ so  _ tight already that her thighs burn with exertion trying to bury herself back into her after every stroke.

 

“I’m so close, Seulie, please,  _ please _ …” her voice trails off, hands grasping at Haseul’s sweaty back, pressing her down onto her like her weight is all she needs to stumble into paradise and Haseul lets herself fall completely, the momentum making her hips snap against Jiwoo’s thighs until she’s sheathed inside her and Jiwoo’s  _ coming.  _ Her voice is broken and high and she can barely breathe in her climax, choked breaths escaping her lips as Haseul kisses her neck, brings her down gently even though her own core is sizzling and her own voice is strained against Jiwoo’s heated skin.

 

“That’s it, baby, you’re so pretty like this…” she wishes she could elaborate, but Jiwoo’s trying to regain her breath, her chest flush with Haseul’s, and she’s lost in the absolute peace she’s found there for a moment. “Just like that, Jiwoo…”

 

“ _ Unnie _ ,”  _ God _ , Haseul’s hips jerk in response, the appendage unforgiving as she drives it inside wet heat again, Jiwoo’s loud whine making her apologize right away. “ _ Unnie,  _ let me. Take this off, let me…” Her fingers claw gently at the harness marking strips on Haseul’s hips, desperate to bring her girlfriend to the same ecstasy she has just experienced, but too tired to really try anything by herself.

It’s not normal for Jiwoo to tire out - her superior stamina has been cause of concern for Haseul’s poor heart many times before -, but it’s been a long day, a long week for the freshman, and the older girl relishes having her boneless and spread out for her. Excitement boils in her gut when she pulls back and out of Jiwoo, wetness spilling out of her like nectar from a flower, and the girl doesn’t even close her legs.

 

She scrambles to remove the harness gracelessly, unwilling to let the heat inside her simmer down as she stares down at Jiwoo’s spent body, damp in all the right places, flushed and ready for her again, inviting as ever.

 

“You look so cute when you’re desperate,” Jiwoo teases, eyes glinting with pride even though she’s in no position to laugh at Haseul. The older girl leans down to kiss the top of Jiwoo’s thigh, letting her teeth graze the skin for a second before she’s settling over it, center soaking wet against the freshman’s skin. She leans above the girl, crowding her in, holding herself up on her forearms.

 

“ _ Oh _ ,” is all Jiwoo can articulate when Haseul’s hips start undulating, her rhythm slightly off but so, so pleasant. She places her hands on the angry red marks on Haseul’s skin, vowing to soothe them with her mouth later.

 

“ _ You _ look so cute when you come around my cock,” Haseul jests right back, adoring how Jiwoo’s eyes roll into her head. “Your face does this thing, you know? Like it goes tight and then slack and I can’t stop looking at you, knowing I did that.” She grunts when Jiwoo flexes her thigh, the muscle under her dripping core sending her closer to her imminent climax.

 

“I’m not getting you that white noise machine,” Jiwoo complains lowly, stretching her neck upwards when Haseul let herself drop forward, catching her mouth in a bruising kiss. Haseul’s rhythm falters, but she’s tightening around nothing already, on the verge of letting go.

 

Jiwoo’s teeth tug on her lips, clink against hers almost painfully when Haseul doesn’t measure the power of her thrusts, but she’s  _ so  _ close that she wouldn’t stop for anything in the world as she grinds down into the girl’s robust thigh. One of Jiwoo’s hands winds up on her short hair, the other gently coaxing Haseul’s hips to come down harder until her face tenses and she comes with a moan, her voice unbelievably beautiful like only a soprano’s can be.

 

Jiwoo doesn’t move, letting Haseul ride her orgasm at her own pace; she tends to overstimulate, and Jiwoo’s too tired for another round. They both are, she notes, when Haseul drops down on top of Jiwoo, uncaring for her heaviness.

 

“Baby, you’re crushing me,” Jiwoo mutters into Haseul’s temple, her fingers playing with her hair.

 

Haseul doesn’t budge. “You signed up for this when you started dating me.”

 

The responding chuckle makes a different warmth spread through Haseul’s limbs, sated and unmovable. They stay like that for a while, sweat cooling, lips tracing soft promises of love on pale skin.

 

“ _ Unnie _ ,” Jiwoo speaks up after a while, her voice scratchy from overusing it in the throes of her pleasure. “Baby, hey. Don’t fall asleep, I wanna watch Shrek.”

 

Haseul lifts her head for the first time, unimpressed. “We watched it last week. And the week before that.”

 

“And this week makes three,” she replies, smiling cheekily at Haseul’s barely concealed grin.  “And because you  _ did  _ just rock my world, you choose the snacks.”

 

Maybe Haseul is slightly addicted, but who can blame her?

 

“I choose the snacks, huh?”

 

It takes Jiwoo a second to understand. “No,  _ no,  _ Jo Haseul, I meant  _ real  _ food like Cheetos!”

 

Haseul behaves, kissing the hard edge of her jaw, humming her appreciation for Jiwoo’s hand stroking her back lovingly.

 

They do end up watching Shrek, and Haseul does choose the snacks – they steal some of Jinsol’s chips that she’ll replace before she even notices –, lying against each other in oversized shirts and fluffy socks, feeding off each other’s presence. Jiwoo is relaying the dialogue word for word a millisecond before the characters say it, even adding sound effects when necessary, and Haseul’s heart feels too big for her chest. 

 

It’s cozy and comfortable and intimate and as Haseul kisses her girlfriend’s forehead, she sees her phone light up on the coffee table next to her, barely making out Jinsol’s messages.

 

**From: bff (big fish fucker):** i saw that box in ur room the other day so im assuming that u just dicked jiwoo down in our sacred family home

**From: bff (big fish fucker):** im expecting DETAILS girl

**From: bff (big fish fucker):** told u u were missing out 

**From: bff (big fish fucker):** (love u girls tho!!)

**Author's Note:**

> this is just fun and filth for my people at os gc
> 
> @jiwendys


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